


The Memories Left by the Day

by sweetautumnwine



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Canon Compliant, Character Study, I love pain apparently but like the minor kind, Magnus makes an appearance and technically so do Taako and Merle, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-30 03:31:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16756843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetautumnwine/pseuds/sweetautumnwine
Summary: The Midsummer Celebration is a time for cheer and delight. Lucretia is plagued by her past. The boys prove their prowess yet again. Danger lurks too close for comfort.





	The Memories Left by the Day

Lucretia had learned to love the Midsummer celebration. She found it difficult to dwell in her thoughts when surrounded by laughter and mirth, the smells of fried delicacies, and playful banter not often heard during hours of operation. It had taken some time for her to realize, but there were some benefits to rest, to distancing oneself from problems and fears alike, if only for a short while.

 

When offered a drink, she accepted before realizing it was Johann who had extended the glass. “I thought you were playing tonight.”

 

He shrugged, tilting his head back to gulp the remnants of his glass. “Not yet,” he said. “This is my warm-up.”

 

She laughed, one hand falling to her stomach. “Yes, well, we wouldn’t want you to disappoint. The people here are looking for a grand performance.”

 

Johann rolled back his shoulders and sniffed, wiping a sleeve under his nose. “And they’re gonna get one.”

 

Before he could stumble toward the center of the clearing, Lucretia caught his arm, a stern expression crossing her features. “There’s still time, Johann. You should sober up before you make a fool of yourself.”

 

He straightened, blinked slowly like a cat. Then, with a solemn nod, he clutched his fiddle close to his chest. “You’re right.”

 

“Go enjoy yourself,” she said, pressing a few coins into the palm of his free hand. “This festival is for everyone to have fun, and believe it or not, Johann, but that includes you.”

 

Whether it was the alcohol that turned him gentle or not, she didn’t know. After staring at the coins, he pocketed them, then placed the same hand on her shoulder. “You, too, Madam Director,” he said, surprising her. “If I have to have fun, so do you.”

 

With a wry grin, Johann departed, plucking a few strings absently as he fled. Lucretia shook her head in disbelief; not only was the young man terribly audacious, but even when intoxicated and playing random notes, the music his hands could craft was divine.

 

It was a shame he…

 

Lucretia raised the glass and downed its contents, hoping to drown the thought. Her eyes caught sight of the moon, rapidly ascending, and she delicately wiped her mouth. Setting down the glass, she folded one hand tightly around her staff and entered a dome to make her announcement.

 

The eclipse, an event beyond magic, was about to begin.

* * *

 

Ever since her youth, Lucretia had marveled at the celestial bodies, how their massive shapes gleamed and glowed, how they could contain themselves and behave, at times, as though alive.

 

She’d counted the stars, documented their cycles, but those notes wouldn’t help now. The stars were different, though not by much. This world was shifted. It was familiar yet foreign, a place welcoming enough to stay but not enough to linger.

 

Standing on the quad, Lucretia lifted her chin to watch the ascent. Each summer, she dreaded this moment. The darkness wasn’t quite as complete, wasn’t as suffocating and vivid, but still, she remembered. The skin of her arms would pucker and her hands would shake no matter how many times she reminded herself: _they aren’t coming; they aren’t here._

 

To see the sun swallowed by a smaller entity, burning behind it to cast a celestial shadow, was perhaps the closest thing to a religious experience Lucretia would allow herself to have. She believed in the Light, but anything beyond that proved difficult. Nothing else seemed nearly as constant as that burning ball falling, year after year, and the suffering it always, inevitably wrought.

 

Lucretia swayed, then caught herself. She tore her protected stare from the blinding bodies above to observe those who had gathered. The amount of effort she exerted just to prevent herself from grinning—from crying—was immense. So many faces, all ignorant of the entire truth, trusting and hopeful and pure.

 

Her eyes fell on three painfully familiar silhouettes, and she smiled fondly, choosing to focus on their wily ways rather than her sins.

 

Those three had much to learn. And one day, she thought with growing dread, they would.

 

The sobering thoughts coaxed her gaze back to the sky. She folded her hands over her staff and held it to her chest, closing her eyes for a moment just to breathe.

 

From the darkness came the shrieking.

 

Lucretia found herself immobilized, vision hazy. The sound was terrible, overwhelming, like being surrounding not just on all sides but in every dimension, like some omnipresent discord weaving through space and time. The sounds weren’t screams, not exactly, but whatever they were, they could drive someone mad.

 

Her staff clattered to the ground as she fought to cover her ears. Her vision wavered, senses disturbed by the cacophony. She was strong, yes, but the fear that overcame her was far stronger, guided by a force she had longed to forget.

 

When she collapsed, she twisted, falling so that she could face the sky. The sight of those stars, the eclipse from such a nuanced angle, would have been beautiful and humbling, had it not been for the sudden flash of white, thousands of eyes blinking into existence, piercing Lucretia’s resolve.

 

She wanted to scream. The noise around her silenced all desires and forced her into submission, rendering the world to darkness.

* * *

 

“No, that was the first time.”

 

When Lucretia awoke, her body felt numb from tongue to toes, and she remained on the ground as long as she was able. Beyond the sheer terror she’d felt upon seeing those _things_ , the spectral spies sent by a beast set on destruction, Lucretia felt as though she’d ingested acid, burning her slowly from the inside out.

 

They’d seen them. Magnus, Merle, and Taako had _seen_ the eyes and failed to comprehend the danger. They’d withstood the chaos. They were so clueless, and it was all her fault. They didn’t know what they’d witnessed or what it meant.

 

Lucretia tried not to think about the implications, but her mind and heart raced.

 

 _The Hunger knows where we are. The Hunger is coming_.

 

She considered revealing the truth. With each step closer to her office, she considered it, imagined how they might take it, how compelled they might feel to simply run away. But that plan wouldn’t work, not this time, not without her.

 

By the time they arrived, Lucretia had settled into a state of mild apathy, having suppressed her anxiety and come to a difficult decision. Keeping secrets had become her speciality. It was a cruel skill to have.

 

The adventurers’ description of the events struck Lucretia with both relief and regret; the Voidfish was truly infallible, and for the lack of triggers, she was grateful. But if only they could remember on their own, realize that things were missing and maybe even recognize her… Lucretia imagined the absence of autonomy in this course would absolve her of some guilt, though she was only deluding herself.

 

“No one on the surface of the world saw or heard anything peculiar, so whatever you saw, you were the only ones who saw it,” Lucretia said, dismissing the knot forming in her chest. “This was not a worldwide phenomenon; it just happened to us, up here on the moon.”

 

As she spoke the words into existence, she fought the urge to clutch at her desk or anything for support. Not only did the Hunger know the plane and the planet they had settled on, but they knew the exact _location_ of the relics. Gathering multiple fragments of the Light had been the only logical course of action, and she’d known the risk.

 

Lucretia hadn’t realized it would happen so quickly. Her fear was cold and quiet, weaving around her middle, making it difficult to breathe.

 

Magnus’ inquiry nearly stole the air from her chest in a laugh. He was so close to the truth, she could cry. If only they were facing an evil organization. If only it were something so mundane. She longed to praise him for his insight but knew it would be false. They didn’t know each other well enough, not there, not now.

 

Drawn from her fear, she straightened, just to fill her lungs. Her mind had cleared. Though the threat was overwhelming, it wasn’t imminent. The important thing was hastening their work and powering through any obstacles that arise. It was the only way.

 

She breathed. Discretion, Lucretia knew well, is necessary for success. She leaned forward, donned an air of authority, and tried to contain her desire to plea. “Don’t tell anyone what you saw here today,” she said, aligning the outer sides of her hands against the desktop.

 

Ultimately, they agreed, though as always, they made the process difficult. When she wasn’t weary, she would laugh at their antics. In spite of the lost memories, their stolen century, the new lives she’d crafted, those boys never changed.

 

When they left, Lucretia allowed herself a moment of rest, laying her face down onto the cool surface and splaying her hands out on either side. Shifting her head, she peered over her shoulder at the massive portrait hanging there, drew air in through her nose, and wiped away a tear.

 

Lucretia sat up, setting her jaw, and nodded to herself in affirmation.

 

Their endings had more failures than successes, but they always led to new beginnings. They failed and suffered and wept, but each time they began again, they tried. It was the least they could do.

 

This time, Lucretia was determined to change the ending, for this world, its people, and her family—the ones who would reach the end just to remember.

**Author's Note:**

> Was listening to episode 17 of Balance and got emotional about Lucretia As Usual. Maybe one day I'll write soft Lucretia and not just boil her down to Guilt, Angst, and Loss, but we'll get there when we get there.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated!


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